Lovin' the Blogging World & Other Crafty Things

I am having a blast with this blogging thing! It's amazing to me how all throughout my day things happen, and I immediately think, "ooh, I could blog on that!" Now, I'll admit, I'm not the best writer with the jazziest blogs, but hey, it's fun!

Last night, my friends Ashlee and Amy came over and we spent the evening scrapbooking. So Much Fun! Amy is the ultimate scrapbooking queen with more goodies than Michael's keeps on their shelves! We were all working on different things ~ Ashlee on her wedding showers, Amy on her precious kids, me on our Chicago trip ~ and we just had the best time! We'll definitely do that again. . . really soon, I hope!

Must run to get my errands done before the dawgs kick off! Happy weekend!

Chaos in the Heart? Fear not!

Whatever You’re Doing - by Sanctus Real

It’s time for healing time to move on
It’s time to fix what’s been broken too long
Time make right what has been wrong
It’s time to find my way to where I belong
There’s a wave that’s crashing over me
All I can do is surrender

Whatever you’re doing inside of me
It feels like chaos somehow there’s peace
It’s hard to surrender to what I can’t seebut
I’m giving in to something heavenly

Time for a milestone
Time to begin again
Reevaluate who I really am
Am I doing everything to follow your will
or just climbing aimlessly over these hills
So show me what it is you want from me
I give everything I surrender…
To…

Time to face up
Clean this old house
Time to breathe in and let everything out
That I’ve wanted to say for so many years
Time to release all my held back tears

Whatever you’re doing inside of me
It feels like chaos but I believe
You’re up to something bigger than me
Larger than life something heavenly

Whatever you’re doing inside of me
It feels like chaos but now I can see
This something bigger than me
Larger than life something heavenly
Something heavenly

It’s time to face up
Clean this old house
Time breathe in and let everything out

I ran to the store this morning to grab a diet coke, and I heard this song on the radio. I jotted down part of the lyrics so I could google the song when I got back to work. What an amazing song! It reminds me of Jennifer’s post (http://incuteshoes.blogspot.com/2008/08/sweetly-broken.html), and how God sometimes breaks us into pieces so that He can rebuild us into what He would have us to be. Like this song says, there are times in our lives where we feel pure chaos inside – depression, addiction, loss, heartache – but it’s during those times that God is working inside of us, creating “something heavenly”. My prayer for today is that if any of you feel chaos in your spirit, that you’ll cry out, “breath in and let everything out”, releasing it all so that God can do His work on you!

*Bloggers, how do I make the web link in Jennifer's name like y'all do????

Glory Glory to ole' Georgia

It’s in the air! Ok, not really. . . it’s hot, it’s humid, it feels nothing like a cool, crisp Saturday. . . Nonetheless, football is here! I am stoked! I really didn’t get too excited until this week. . . the emails start flying, ESPN coverage of the season to come, folks asking, "Are you going to the game Saturday?". . . . You can’t help but get into the spirit! It’s time to pull Hershel out of the attic and place him proudly on our front porch. Hershel is the concrete bulldog that one of Tim’s friends painted for him a few years ago. The flag’s flying in our yard. Ah, it’s time for the bulldogs to play!

Maybe you saw this email; I might’ve forwarded it to you, but it’s so incredible and so true that I must post it here. Enjoy!

It is Saturday. All week long you've waited. What started out on Monday as a tight feeling in the pit of your stomach is now a 10,000-pound gorilla tap dancing on your spleen. You've done your best to concentrate and do your job this week. You made an honest effort to put "all this" on the back burner and focus on "the important things", but to no avail. The images just kept coming: bright fall sunshine and crisp autumn air painting The Classic City in Hellenic splendor. The aroma of a thousand tailgate feasts wafting through the air, and everywhere, everything -- Red and Black.

You've gone from sports page to magazine, to news show, to internet site, and in every conversation in every office, diner, hallway and cubicle you entered this week, you have tried to reassure yourself of the outcome of this week's contest. But in your heart of hearts you know there's only one way to settle it: Dawgs gotta tee it up and play.

And now it's Saturday. As you contemplate the day ahead, an image of The Hedges flashes in your mind; green grass, crisp white lines, sunshine ricocheting off the instruments of the Redcoats, and 80,000 - plus fans volleying "GEORGIA -BULLDAWGS" back and forth across the stadium, rattling you all the way to the soles of you feet. You swing out of bed, heart pounding. Grab a cup o’ Joe and a quick shower as you prepare for the pilgrimage to A-town. You slam in a tape of the Redcoat Band and crank up the stereo. "Hail" bounces off the walls while you don your lucky shirt (socks, hat, pants, whatever) as you perform the pre-game ritual.

The phone rings -- Yes, you're up. Yes, you have the tickets. "No, my cooler's full, we'll have to take yours, too. I'll stop and get some ice on the way." Gather up the tailgate supplies and load the car. Why does it take so damn long for everyone else to get ready? You check and recheck the supplies - - table, chairs, food. No need to check the drinks, no way those'll get left behind! Cigars? Check. Binoculars? Check. Camera? Blanket? Check. Dawg flags secured to the car and ready to fly - - all packed up and ready. Finally! Time to go. You reassure yourself for the millionth time that the tickets are in your pocket and you "saddle up."

Headed to The Classic City. Dawg-patch, USA.

Larry and Scott and Loran on the pre-game show, telling you how good these guys are gonna be (yeah, like you need something else to worry about!). Loren threads in a history lesson, and hey! -- an interview with one of the Dawgs from way back when. Always wondered what happened to him. Corporate exec in N'awlins. Who'd of ever guessed? You smile as you remember a moment of glory for him in a past game.

On the radio, James Brown is hammering out, "Dooley's Junkyard Dawgs" and as your friends get in the car, you all sing along. En route, cars pass by you by: they're singing too, and barking as they pass. It's a rolling party and the gangs all there! You sense the excitement as it grows, mile by mile. Traffic slows to a crawl somewhere near the Clarke County line. It is a long, happy, red and black serpent winding its way toward Sanford Stadium. Dawg flags and bumper stickers. "Boiled P-nuts just ahead". White shoe polish on windshields proclaiming the magnificence of the Dawg Nation, and snatches of Larry pleading from the speakers of passing cars and trucks: "He's at the 40, the 35, the 30, run Lindsey, run!" And your heart races, your gut tightens - - you just can't wait to be there.

Now on final approach, you turn down Lumpkin (Milledge, Baxter . . . ) homing in on THE tailgate spot. Other friends are already there and as you get out of the car, it hits you! Carnival atmosphere. Red. Black. "How 'bout them Dawgs!" "They Hell ain't they?" The fragrance of charcoal heating up and barbecue on the grill. Opposing fans drifting by, good-natured ribbing, and "Hey, y'all eat some of this, we got plenty".

Introductions all around, and then serious discussion and comparison of the teams. Who's hurt? How fast is that wide receiver? That O-line looked awesome last week. Y'all gonna keep that coach around next year?"

Drinks with old friends and new ones.

Stories about games gone by. "Man, they've added a lot to the campus since the last time I was here!" and "I don't think they grew 'em like that when I was in school!" Have another drink. Have some more barbecue. And another drink. Or two.

And finally, pack it all up, it's time to go! Man, you really didn't need that extra barbecue, that 10,000 pound gorilla is kicking to get out right now! You merge into the red and black sea that is moving inexorably toward Sanford, the Temple of the Dawg. The sun is as bright as you imagined it would be. Not too hot, not too cold. 'A crisp, fall day' as Larry might describe it. Red and Black everywhere. Sequined coats and polyester pants. Hats. Shorts. Boots. Faces painted with renderings of Uga and "Dawgs". "Buy a program?" "You bet." And, "Oh man, I gotta have that tee-shirt." Barking Dawgs everywhere as you're more or less towed towards the stadium by the throng of the Dawg Nation.

But underneath the bridge, near the Tate Student Center, the crowd stops. And there stands the band in all its splendor, Redcoats blazing like fire. Sequins from the Flag Corps' costumes glittering like diamonds. Notes and rifts fill the air as they mill around, warming up, waiting impatiently for the spectacle to begin. They pose for photos with family and friends. Kisses and hugs all around. Someone says, "There's Uga!" and everyone tries to get a look and a photo. "Hey Mr. Seiler." "Hey Coach!" Kids running around at your knees with stacks of drink cups; stadium urchins already beginning their collection of souvenirs from a day in Dawgpatch.

And suddenly, the moment freezes in your mind as you notice that somewhere close to the middle of the band, beneath the crowd assembled on the bridge, one lone trumpet swings skyward: The atmosphere is instantly charged with about a gazillion volts, and the crowd waits expectantly. You KNOW what's coming and still, you can't control your reaction. Goosebumps rise on your arms. The hair on your neck stands straight up and a lump forms in your throat. Your eyes well up. All those memories of all those years and all those Dawgs suddenly converge in your mind like colliding freight trains, and your chest feels like it's gonna explode.

And then come the seven notes... Seven plaintive notes, rendered slowly, proudly, reverently into the heavens. "Mine eyes have seen the glory..." And Dawgs all around you, and above you begin to answer back. Just one or two at first, but it continues to grow until it seems you're surrounded by a pack of hungry wolves, getting progressively louder and wilder, until the bridge itself threatens to collapse from the clamor!

And then the rest of the band joins in, and suddenly the whole damn world is ablaze with the fire that burns in the breast of the Dawg Nation. GLORY! Not "The Battle Hymn of the Republic". Not the fight song of some backwoods pretender in Alabama.

Glory, the battle hymn of the Dawg Nation! Glory, Glory to Ol' Georgia. The uproar grows and the crowd melds and begins to move in unison, the fans, the band, all one ... Suddenly it's not a crowd anymore. It has become something else entirely. You can't describe it, but you know its composition. It is Theron Sapp and Mike Castronis; Buck Belue and Lewis Grizzard; Craig Hertwig and Cowboy Parish and Preston Riddlehuber. Larry, and "Loran, whatta ya got?" Ray the quarterback and Ray the coach. Squab Jones and his infamous "Squab Juice" It's Sam Mrvos and Jake Scott. Hell, it's Hershel Walker the Endzone Stalker, and Vince Dooley and Joel Eaves, with a little bit of Wally Butts and Erk Russell thrown in. It's "He's got a man open -- he's gonna throw a long bomb! and "Look at the sugar falling from the sky!" It's "Robert Edwards tight-ropin' down in the corner, and he got in there!" And it's Jim Donnan being carried off the field on the shoulders of his Dawgs. It's every friend you ever sat with through a game on a Saturday in Athens, Georgia. And now, what moments ago was merely a crowd has transformed into an indomitable entity; a juggernaut of energy and pride that flows into the stadium like smoke from a battery of double-barreled canon.

It's game time.

And so we press -- into the Temple of the Dawg, we enter: A huge machine in Red and Black.

GOOOOOOOOOOOO DAWGS SIC EM!!

Mighty Wife Here!!

I love to cut the grass; I love it! I often beg Tim to please let me cut the grass because it's just so therapeutic to me. He wrestles with the idea of me cutting the grass while he does other yard work. . . I tell him it's not like he's sitting on his high and mighty inside watching baseball. He's working in the yard, too. Sometimes I cut the grass and sometimes he does. We like it that way!
One Friday afternoon recently, I snuck out of work a little early and beat him home. So I promptly started mowing the grass. By the time he got home from work, I was done! It was great! He actually called on his way home, and I answered the phone, "Mighty Wife here, what can I do for you?" Tim thought I lost my mind!?!?! And he was so appreciative that I'd cut the grass. All he had to do was edge and weed eat. I'm terrible at the weed eating. Works out well, don't you think?

That following Saturday, I had to work and then we made a day trip to Rome for a friend's wedding. But on Sunday, fear not! Mighty Wife returned for SURE! I baked cupcakes with homemade cream cheese icing for the first time ever! What a success! Hubby was thrilled! He was my taste-tester, and judging from the chocolate all around his face and the icing around his lips, he loved them! I wish I'd had my camera (which is MIA and is killing me!!); it was classic. Then, he proceeded to demand a spatula, firmly planted his feet right in front of our kitchen sink, and licked the icing bowl clean! He was so serious about it, it was hysterical! . . Not so funny, however, when we returned from having dinner with Jenn and Brian to find that our dogs had also enjoyed the cupcakes. . . they ate 4 of them. The 4 lucky cakes that were close enough to the edge of the counter that Buddy and Belle could attack them. No wonder the doggies were so high strung when we got home!!! I was livid!!!!

You'd think we learned our lesson and no more food near the dogs but no. . . just a couple of weeks ago we were about to eat dinner when Jenn and Brian stopped by. As they were leaving Tim and I walked them outside. We left Buddy inside and Belle was in the garage because she's a bully and is mean to Chance, Jenn and Brian's dog. When we returned to our kitchen table, I promptly learned that Buddy likes baked chicken and green beans A LOT, that he'd enjoy corn if it weren't on the cob, and those strawberry muffins I'd made were divine! The field peas, though, he left pretty much untouched. It was hysterical! And proof that Buddy's not the innocent old Grandpa dog I think he is. . .

This is REEEEdiculous!

Note: This is a blog I actually wrote a few weeks ago. I was trying out another blog site that I ended up not liking very much, and the beauty of it is nobody but Tim knew about the other site! So, I'm recycling!!!

I'm working today in another office . . . It's in a small town, and I LOVE IT! But I have had all I can possibly take of the negative attitudes of some of the folks around here. Why is that? How do you respond to someone who's always complaining? always negative? The title of my post, This is REEEEdiculous. That's actually was Negative Nancy was saying as I started this blog. I'm not joking! She's still complaining. . . and I just bite my tongue.

It always reminds me of a precious pure-as-white-driven-snow friend I had in college. She was the sweetest, softest spoken girl I've probably ever met. And she lived with one of the most self-centered, spoiled rotten girls I've ever known. I remember asking Patient Pattie how she was always smiling and always responded sweetly to our friend, Complaining Connie. Patient Pattie said this, "B, I believe God puts people in our lives sometimes to be our sandpaper. They seem rough to us and there are things about them that might really get on our nerves. But it's God's way of changing us - sanding down the parts of ourselves that are like that person. When Complaining Connie goes on a tangent - pouts when she doesn't get her way, acts totally self-absorbed - I try to imagine what God's trying to teach me."

Sweet little Patient Pattie. Sadly, I have no idea where she is now or what she's doing. But I'll never forget her sweet spirit, her words of wisdom, or her love for Christ. All of those attributes taught me things. . . maybe she was a positive sandpaper in my life. You think?

Funny thing: Negative Nancy just waltzed by and was Chipper!?!?! Some things never cease to amaze me!

High Dollar Doggies

Well, I'll bite. . . after reading many friends' daily or weekly blogs, I decided it's high time I jump in and see what this blogging world is all about. I'm not so sure what I'll talk about or focus on. . . I mean, most of my friends who blog have precious babies to brag about daily. Not me ~ not yet anyway. . . .

But I think about how I love to write, and I wonder if this will be something I'll soon love to do each day. We will see!

One thing I know I can talk about it the cost of taking care of animals. Tim and I went to St. Simons for a long weekend earlier this summer, and we boarded our dogs and had the vet give them each their annual shots. We have a black lab, Belle, who's almost 5 and weighs 83 pounds. Buddy is our 12 year old mutt who weighs only 37 pounds. When I picked them up from their weekend at the vet, imagine my surprise when the receptionist told me we owed a hefty $463.00!!!! I thought I might die! I have never!!!! But, I quietly paid, gathered my happy-to-see-me dogs and rushed out the door.

It just adds up. . . That's what Tim said anyway, when I completely freaked him out with the amount we'd just spent on our dogs. But they are happy dogs; that's counting for something, right?!?!? And we love them!

So, I welcome any and all comments from dog lovers and those of you who might think we're absolutely crazy to be spending that kind of money on animals. . .